


Mirror, Mirror

by bethwithlit



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: :U, Angst, F/M, i cry, may or may not be going through a blue mood rn too but whatever, me bab, mentions of other Avengers, the vision questions his existence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 04:37:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6940096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethwithlit/pseuds/bethwithlit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Mirror reflects what is put in front of it, and Vision finds himself doing the same, struggling with who he is. Wanda hears his thoughts and wants to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror, Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> i am tired and sad

The Vision stared at himself in the mirror. Hovering, motionless… emotionless. He didn’t need to look at a clock to know how late it was, how strange it was for him to be up at this godforsaken hour. He furrowed his brows, blue eyes staring into his. Staring at the golden glow at the center of his forehead. He was searching.

_ Who am I? _

He knew what they called him. He knew what they thought of him. He knew more than they thought he knew. But here he was, not knowing a single thing about himself. Perhaps it was because he was so young. Perhaps he had been intended to not know yet. Perhaps… he was merely a husk, waiting to be inhabited by a ghost, a spirit, a soul.

Around the others, he put on his best impersonation of a soul. He was still figuring out a personality, and he’d found himself taking on aspects of those around him. 

Like Thor, he was courageous. He wore his smile like a crown, kept himself in check, made sure he could count on himself to stay steady-headed. He knew when to say no, and when to say yes. Like the mighty warrior, lightning coursed through his veins. His sense for danger was as accurate as his sense for fun.

From Natasha, Vision found that he’d picked up a habit of over-analyzing everything. Any situation he could see a way out of it, through it, and around it. The part of him that mimicked her kept him serious and constant, although he knew there was more to her than meets the eye. Whether she liked it or not, she’d taught him to ask questions and keep secrets.

The Stark part of him clashed with Nat’s. Vision found that sometimes, questions were unnecessary. There were times where it was better to act than to be still. However, The Iron Man, like Thor, gave him the gift of compassion. He saw the pain behind people’s eyes, saw sorrow and fear, confusion… sometimes death. Like Stark, The Vision had a hidden vigilance.

Turning away from the mirror, Vision drifted through the wall, into the hallway. He knew drifting unnerved those who saw him… but it was so much easier. It felt better to drift, let go a little. Like a ghost, he followed the hallways. This sort of thing he only did occasionally. He didn’t wish to run into anyone, or scare anyone. Explaining what he was doing would only become confusing for anyone involved.

_ Who am I? _

The question persisted.

A flashlight passed his way, but he was already on the roof.

The stars winked back at him, and he felt he was being watched. He was so small. Sometimes he wondered what would happen, if he just let go? Holding onto the pull of the planet’s gravity wasn’t in any way difficult for him. Still, he wondered what it would be like, out there amongst the stars. Obsolete, inconsequential.

Would anyone miss him?

Maybe for a time they would. But this world, this universe, this everything… it all passed eventually. Surely, they would forget. Already it had been a year… he still hadn’t eaten anything, tasted anything. Stark had mentioned there was no need for him to eat. Food might cause problems. Sure, he had a digestive system, but it was merely vestigial. Unimportant. No one offered him anything. He didn’t want to be a bother.

_ Who am I? _

Unlike Steve, Vision was hardly patriotic. He knew of borders and countries, but what mattered more to him were souls and lives. However, Vision felt a certain debt to be paid for these people, staggering about amongst each other in their day-to-day lives. Living, loving, laughing, learning, leaving. There was a connection between him and humanity. It wasn’t something he wanted to dismiss lightly.

In his brief encounter with Dr. Banner, Vision had learned something interesting. Not rage, per se, but… anger. Righteous anger. And control of it. Perhaps such a thing wasn’t healthy. He wasn’t sure. But the mere thought of people in need, helpless, abused, lonely,  _ lost _ … just floating there, watching the stars, Vision felt the power within him coursing like fire in the night. Perhaps someday he could do something about it.

Ugh. He hated feeling helpless. Useless.

Clint, unbeknowing, had taught him to see humor in the little things. Admittedly, Clint was better at the whole humor thing than he was, but he tried. The bowman also caused a strange battle in Vision’s mind, on the topic of letting things rest. He knew there was only so much he could do, but oh how he wished there was more. He’d learned to let things be.

The Vision had only interacted with Sam a handful of times, but he liked his spirit. Sometimes he wished he could be more like him. Something the two of them had in common, that didn’t need mimicry, was loyalty. Vision knew that the both of them would die for those they loved. Better or worse.

Wanda… Wanda had helped him with many things. Adjusting, he supposed. They both felt like outsiders. They talked and joked. He sensed a kindred spirit in her. From her, he had learned two things, two very powerful things: Loss and Fear. He remembered that day in Sokovia, the day she lost her brother. The energy in the air had already been surging with the fight, but the instant she felt the part of her soul being torn from her… he’d felt it too. He’d felt the power in her hands, ripping through the air and for a very brief second he was afraid he would be torn apart. The stone in his head had tugged just a little, telling him to tear himself apart. Still there was something in him, wondering if she would ever cause him harm.

She wouldn’t. There were limits to her abilities, and the gem was a mystery that even he could not put together.

Reality snapped into place all of a sudden, and Vision felt himself standing on the roof, feet firm on the surface. It seemed that every time he came up here, he drifted a little further away. He hated to admit it, but it scared him. He looked down at his feet. He couldn’t bare to stare into the stars anymore, emptiness overwhelming him.

_ Who am I? _

A mirror only reflects. It cannot feel, cannot love, cannot act. A mirror cannot be human. It can look like a human, move like a human, but it is not a human. Vision’s fists clenched, jaw tight. They only saw him as a mirror. A trinket, a toy, something that could be easily dismissed. The only reason they listened to him was because he was dangerous. They knew that if he so willed it, they would be dead before he could even blink. He shuddered at the thought, hugging himself. If he so willed it, he could just… leave.

Perhaps it would be safer that way.

His heart felt like it was tearing itself in two. Was this feeling real? Was this feeling human? Or was it only something he was mimicking, something to be saved for a later time? He shut his eyes tight, trying to think, trying to feel. He felt tears in his eyes. But did they really mean anything? He was just a mirror with sharp edges, reflecting the pain he saw in the world. How could these tears mean anything else?

“Your tears mean just as much as mine.”

If he had been anymore lost in thought, he wouldn’t have noticed the hand that had rested on his shoulder. Wanda stood beside him, looking at him with a strange mix of empathy and curiosity. For once he felt he was at a loss for words. There was nothing for him to say, though– she knew it all.

Looking away, he let the tears fall. He was confused and scared. He didn’t know what was happening to him, to his mind, to his being. He let it out, burying his face in his hands, Wanda’s hand keeping a firm grip on his shoulder. Foreign, ugly sobs escaped him, his body curling in on himself. He felt like he should scream but he could only cry.

Only one thing screamed in his mind:  _ Who am I? _

Wanda’s arms held him close, both of them kneeling on the ground now.

“Viz… you are you. Nobody else.” Her words stung and healed and confused him even more. He didn’t understand. How could a mirror understand?

“Viz. Look at me.” She gently turned his face to hers. Why was it so difficult to look at her, her eyes? “Listen. You are  _ not _ a mirror. You are not a toy. You are not me, or Steve, or Tony, or anyone else. You are  _ you _ .”

“But…”  _ Who am I? _

She wiped away a swell of tears from his synthetic skin. Her eyes seemed to see past his skin, seeing his mind… who he was.

“Can you tell me who I am?” he somehow managed to ask through withheld sobs.

Wanda held him closer, his head leaning on her shoulder. She could feel his heart breaking and it was breaking her heart.

“You are The Vision. You are kind. You love people despite not knowing them. You are wise and yet you are still like a child. There is so much more to you that you will learn. You…” She paused, looking up at the stars. She was holding back her own tears. “You are afraid. Lonely… Confused.”

He wept still, trying desperately to make sense of it all, clinging to her as if she were the only source of light in this darkness. She must think him an utter mess now. She must only think of him as a pathetic, broken mirror. Broken, unable to reflect right, shattered on the ground.

“Oh…  _ Viz. _ ” She leaned her head on his. “You are many things, but you are  _ not broken _ . Please, listen to me. Your feelings are real.  _ I can feel them _ . You are real. You are valid. You are a wonderful person, you are good. You are lovely, you are intelligent. You are so,  _ so _ much more than this.” She held him even closer, placing a chaste kiss on his head. “You are my friend.”

She waited for him to quiet himself. The thoughts in his mind were softening, beginning to order themselves, washing in and out like the waves of the ocean. Eventually he sat up and wiped his face dry. He still felt like a mess, but perhaps that was part of who he was.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“...I am sorry nevertheless.” He sighed, looking up at the stars again. He didn’t need to tell her he still felt empty and useless. He didn’t need to say that despite how confused and scared he felt, hearing her helped him. She had helped a little. She already knew how thankful he was for her presence, her strength. She knew. She had always known how his heart seemed to shatter from time to time, how good he had become at hiding it. She knew and felt his fear.

She took his hand in hers. “I know… I know you would not do this, but I still have to say this. Please do not leave.”

He smiled sadly, squeezing her hand in his. “I won’t. I still need to find myself…”  _ And I would prefer to do that here. _

She smiled at him. “I’m glad.”

They both looked up at the stars. The Vision closed his eyes, breathing in the cool air. He felt a little less lost with Wanda. He was her friend. He hoped with all of his being that that would never change.

Ever.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! if you have any suggestions for other Vizfics let me know~


End file.
